Hayes waited.
“Private Miller.”
“Drill Sergeant.”
He looked at the graduates behind her.
“I was wrong.”
Sarah said nothing.
“Three hundred was unsafe. I knew you were exhausted. I wanted you to fail because I thought failure would prove something I already believed.”
The honesty made her angrier than an excuse would have.
“You could have injured me permanently.”
“Yes.”
“You did that to other soldiers too.”
“Yes.”
“Why are you here?”
Hayes looked down.
“Because the review board asked whether I understood the difference between hard training and punishment for my own ego. I gave them the right answer. Then I realized I had never said it to the person who paid for the lesson.”
Sarah crossed her arms.
“I am not going to tell you it’s okay.”
“I didn’t come for that.”
“Good.”
They stood in silence.
Hayes nodded once.
“Congratulations.”
He turned to leave.
Sarah stopped him.
“If they ever put you in front of trainees again, remember the buckle.”
He looked back.
“The buckle?”
“Half an inch of nylon. That is what you turned into three hundred push-ups. If the correction becomes bigger than the mistake, ask yourself who the correction is really for.”
Hayes absorbed the words.
“I will.”
